Dumbledore Asked Calmly Page Novels & Stories

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."

I was the son of the wealthiest man in Capital City, but I had never enjoyed the flattery and fake smiles that came with that title. All I had ever wanted was a normal life. Now that I was pushing twenty-eight and still single, my mom finally lost her patience. She gave me an ultimatum: go on a blind date or she’d disown me. On my way to the date, I passed by a luxury boutique and spotted a watch that immediately caught my eye. I was just about to pay for it when, out of nowhere, a man barged in from behind and slapped a black card down on the counter. “I’ll take this watch. Wrap it up for me,” he said. I stayed calm and said politely, “Sir, I saw this watch first.” However, he just scoffed and snapped back, full of arrogance, “A broke nobody like you can look but not afford it. Get lost. I’m the assistant to Ms. Jackson, the CEO of Jackson Group. In this city, if I want something, no one will fight me for it.” Ms. Jackson? Isn’t that the exact woman I was supposed to be meeting for the blind date? Without another word, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “Selena,” I said calmly, “do you know your assistant is out here throwing your name around to bully people?”

Within 30 days, Niccolò Romano and I registered for divorce 18 times. The first time, Niccolò's adopted sister stole my research results, but he hired a lawyer to fight for her. Afterwards, he held me and coaxed, "If something happens to Lia, no one will dare to hire her in the future. I'm just helping her." The second time, while my plane was in distress, he was traveling around the world with Lia. His tone was helpless: "Lia has depended on me since she was little. I only look after her like a younger sister." The last time, Lia was pregnant with a child no one would claim, and he took responsibility for it. Faced with my accusation, he just sighed, a bit tired: "Lia's career is just starting to take off. If someone blackmails her with the child, her life will be ruined." "You're a woman too. Can't you understand?" This time, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I calmly signed my name on the divorce agreement that he had signed in a fit of pique some time ago. Then I called my professor: "I've thought it over. I'm willing to go with you to Iceland to do research."

At a dinner party, my genius painter of a husband, Henry Shepherd, used his hands, hands insured for millions, to shell crabs for his young assistant, Tamara Lee. This was all to coax her into eating a few bites when she claimed she had no appetite. Meanwhile, I drank myself into a bloody mess, trying to secure investments for him. When I asked him to hand me some antacids, he refused without even looking up. “These hands are for painting. Use your own.” For ten years, he couldn’t even be bothered to change the way he treated me. That night, as I sobered up in the cold wind, I asked my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Henry, in this vast, chaotic world, our paths end here," I said inwardly

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"

My marriage to Tommaso Volpe, Don of the Volpe family, is part of a five-year contract. We each have someone we love, and we stay out of each other's way. He loves his adopted sister, Gelsomina Volpe, who needs his protection. My heart belongs only to my deceased fiancé, Marco Damiano. For five years, I play the perfect Signora Volpe, enduring Gelsomina's provocations and cruelty again and again. She forces caustic substances down my throat that nearly destroy my esophagus. He tells me to let it go for his sake. She stages her own kidnapping and forces Tommaso to choose between saving her and me. He doesn't hesitate, choosing to save her while I sink to the bottom of that freezing lake. On the last day of our contract, I calmly pack my things and leave the signed divorce papers behind. I need to find a young man who looks just like Marco. He's all I have left to hold onto. But after I leave, Tommaso loses his mind searching for me, saying he's fallen in love with me. He threatens me with the entire city's underworld just to stay by my side. He watches me grow close to my new "replacement" and goes mad with jealousy. He thinks he still has a chance, but he has already lost this game from the very beginning.

When I open my eyes again, I notice that I'm lying on the bed of my archnemesis, Ashton Ford. Ashton calmly puts on his clothes before tossing a card at me, telling me to get out. He then looks at the caretaker stationed by the door and asks helplessly, "Is Sunny still throwing a tantrum? Tell her that we're going to be engaged soon. She can't leave women in my bed just because she's angry." I'm about to say something when a stream of comments appears before my eyes. "Here comes another one hoping to sleep her way into a prestigious position. Mr. Ford only loves Sunny. If she didn't comfort him, he might have taken his own life after what happened to Elizabeth a long time ago." "Can the author stop trying to force these flings onto him? It wasn't easy for Sunny to achieve success after taking over as the female lead. I want to see them live a sweet married life." "Unless Mr. Ford's dead first love, Elizabeth Miller, comes back to life, no one can possibly touch Sunny's position in Mr. Ford's heart." Confusion is written all over my face. I'm Elizabeth Miller. Since when did I become Ashton's first love?

My husband of five years turned out to be the long-lost heir of the Rhys mafia family. On the day he was brought back into the family, he took our son by the hand and walked toward a million-dollar luxury car with Isla, his childhood sweetheart. Then, frowning slightly, he said to me, “Hazel, I’m only taking Isla and our son with me. You stay here for now. Once I’ve secured my footing in the Rhys family, I’ll come back for you.” I nodded calmly and accepted his arrangement without protest. I knew that even if I forced my way back with him, it wouldn’t end well. In my previous life, I cried and insisted on going with him. Left with no choice, Sam brought me back to the family. However, it wasn’t long before Isla framed me, accusing me of leaking the Rhys mafia family's secrets. According to family rules, I was sentenced to death. When the verdict was carried out, my son shouted at me with reddened eyes. “I hate you! If you hadn’t insisted on coming back, I wouldn’t have had a traitor for a mother! I would’ve had a better mom a long time ago!” In that instant, my heart gave out. Reborn to the moment before my husband reclaimed his identity, I chose to let go without hesitation this time, no longer standing in the way of the happiness he and our son wanted.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

> ️ Warning: This collection is sinfully explicit. Just glancing will make you squirm. If you can’t handle moans, ropes, or hands where they shouldn’t be turn back now. You’ve been warned. They say it’s just fiction... but these stories burn too real. Every page drips with lust, danger, and forbidden desire. There are no love stories here, only raw need, untamed passion, and the kind of encounters that leave your pulse racing and your body aching for more. Inside these pages, you’ll find hotel hookups, forbidden age gaps, dominant bosses, naughty students with teachers, moaning nurses, lesbians, stepfathers who cross the line, and desperate daughters who let them and vice versa. From BDSM dungeons to office desks, from late-night threesomes to risky public play... no fantasy is off-limits. Midnight Pleasures is a no-limits collection of erotic short stories meant to tease, tempt, and utterly satisfy. Quick hits. Slow burns. Rough rides. Dangerous desires. Even the ones you’ve never admitted out loud. Quietly, let's go on a journey full of pleasure. Cloud nine is overrated, there's a next cloud after that. Let's show you.